


Clever Fingers, Eager Hands

by haraya



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haraya/pseuds/haraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Evelyn's noble-trained musical talents come to light, Cullen begins to feel ashamed of his clumsy farmboy's hands and peasant upbringing. Evelyn assures him time and again that he doesn't need to be conscious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clever Fingers, Eager Hands

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Now with a companion piece: [These Hands Were Made for Loving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5537339), in which Cullen wins at life.

It starts when the Inquisitor's party returns from a trip to Val Royeaux, and Dorian brings home the thing. 

Cullen's informed that _the thing_ is called a _violin_ , and that it is, apparently, a musical instrument. It's all sinisterly sinuous curves and polished wood, and Cullen is slightly horrified when the Tevinter mage informs him what the fibers on the bow are made from. It looks more like some unusual form of torture developed by poncy nobles. He tells Dorian as such. 

"Oh, certainly," Dorian says as he tunes the strings in the light of the sun streaming through the library window. "You wouldn't believe how _excruciatingly_ painful it is for a young boy to stand for two hours a day while learning to play Orpheus' Symphony no. 19 and wondering how many symphonies there are left." 

Dorian places the instrument in the crook of his neck, the bow held in what looks like an awkward grip in his right, and Cullen silently winces at the painful-looking way the other man contorts to accommodate the instrument.

At least until Dorian slides the bow over the strings, producing a rich melodic sound unlike anything Cullen's ever heard. Then the mage plays a series of staccato notes, alternating with long sweeps of the bow, and Cullen is suddenly swept up in a rush of memories: village dances on the green, the smell of homemade pies baking, his first blushing kiss stolen behind his father's barn. 

"That's..." Cullen says, when Dorian stops to tweak the tuning pegs a little more. "Quite something," he finishes inadequately. The other man smirks.

"Oh yes. Very popular in the Minrathous Opera House, that one." His smirk grows into a full-blown shit-eating grin as he says, "And also popular with the ladies. Perhaps it's the implied dexterity?" He wiggles his fingers along the violin's neck. "Not that I would care, but still, very useful to know. For... wooing purposes?" He winks. "I could show you, if you'd like."

Cullen blushes, because he's fairly certain he'll never be able to play so fine an instrument, and also because he's not _wooing_ anyone.

Because, well sure, he and the Inquisitor - _Evelyn_ \- have... _something_ going on, but _wooing_ implies some careful planning and deliberate maneuvers. And this - _whatever this is_ with Evelyn just happened.

Is happening.

Not that he's complaining - _at all_ \- but.

"No. Thank you," Cullen replies, clipped. 

Dorian laughs, loud and amused, before he thrusts the instrument into Cullen's arms, and it's all he can do not to drop it. And somehow the other man manages to bully him into position, the neck of the instrument seeming too delicate in his big hands.

"Right," Dorian says. "Just draw the bow across the strings _here_ and..."

Cullen does, gingerly, and suddenly there's an ungodly screeching sound in his ear, and for one moment time stands still in the library, all eyes trained on him. Cullen thinks he hears Leliana's quiet " _Oh dear,_ " from up in the rookery, and he winces and tries to hand the violin back, certain that this can't possibly get any worse.

He's proven wrong when he hears footfalls thundering up the stairs and the Inquisitor appears in the doorway, looking harried and panicked. _"Where are the demons!?"_

If the Maker could strike him down _right now_ , Cullen would be immensely grateful.

The Inquisitor's eyes carefully scan the room before landing on Dorian, then shifting to Cullen and the violin in his hands.

"Commander," she says slowly. "Was that you playing just now?"

Dorian bursts into laughter, and Cullen blushes furiously as the sound seems to unfreeze the room: Grand Enchanter Fiona cracks a smile, and even Leliana's twittering birds up in the rookery sound mocking.

" _Attempting_ to play seems more like it," Dorian says as he takes the violin from Cullen's outstretched arms.

"So..." the Inquisitor says, still looking faintly out-of-sorts. "No demons?"

_"No,"_ Cullen says, blushing hotly.

"Oh, well that's-- good. Great. Wonderful, yes. _No demons_ is wonderful!" She smiles.

She surprises Cullen when she takes the violin from Dorian's hands and fits it easily in the crook of her neck, playing a quick little ditty on the strings.

"I haven't played this in years," she says softly, her eyes wistful.

"You play?" Cullen asks. Maker, he feels even more foolish now.

"A little," she says. "It was common for noble ladies in Ostwick to learn at least one instrument. I studied several, including the violin, although I was more inclined toward the harpsichord."

Cullen has only a vague idea of what a harpsichord even _is_ , but Dorian's eyes brighten at the word.

"Truly?" the mage asks. "Perhaps we can play a duet sometime. I know a number of pieces with arrangements for both--"

The two of them begin talking about different pieces, gesticulating wildly, discussing the merits of this sonata or that aria with a lot of words that may have been Orlesian or Antivan or both.

Unless Cullen had a big sign pointing towards him with the word _'peasant'_ , the fact couldn't have been more obvious than this.

He quietly takes his leave and retreats to his office, leaving behind the airy sound of string notes in his wake.

\---

Cullen looks up from studying reports when Evelyn strides into his office some hours later, looking sheepish. She has the violin tucked under one arm and the bow dangling from her fingers. 

"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to neglect you earlier."

"It's fine," he says, not even a little bit sad anymore, not when she's smiling up at him the way she is.

"Perhaps I can make it up to you?" she asks.

That piques Cullen's interest. "Oh?"

"I could teach you to play, if you'd like." Her smile widens as she swings the bow gently to and fro.

"Oh."

She laughs at his expression. "It's not that hard," she says, playing a little trilling tune on the strings. "At least try?"

He sighs, resigned. He can't deny her anything, it seems. She places the violin and the bow on his desk before she takes his hands and gently tugs off his gloves. She briefly runs her soft fingers over his calloused palms, smiling up at him, and Cullen thinks it's a little pathetic how quickly she can reduce him to a blushing mess.

She hands him the instrument, moving him into position, her fingers adjusting his grip and pressing into his wrist to move it just so.

"Now slide the bow over the strings," she says, so he does, and somehow the sound that comes out is even _worse_ than before.

But then her hand is on his, pressing down gently to apply more pressure on the bow, and the screeching suddenly becomes a full, rounded note. He stops abruptly in surprise, and when he looks at her she's smiling triumphantly at him.

"See?" she says.

But apparently it's too early to celebrate, because after an hour Cullen still can't get the hang of it, his fingers too large and clumsy to hit the precise spots on the neck of the instrument.

She purses her lips as he tugs his gloves back on sullenly. "It's not really for everyone," she says. "We can always find you another instrument you're better at."

"Right," he says dejectedly, but then Evelyn places her hands on his forearms and rises on her toes to press kisses all over his face. He starts to laugh under the onslaught of her affection, and she doesn't stop until his cheeks hurt from smiling and all is right again in the world.

\---

After the fiasco at Halamshiral, and after he dances with Evelyn (twice - first on the balcony, which was pretty nice with just the two of them, and then on the ballroom floor when she insists he dance with her in front of all the scheming nobles, and he likes it much, _much_ less until he sees her smirking triumphantly at all those smarmy Orlesians that had been hounding him all night, and that makes him smile, and suddenly it's not all that bad, all things considered), she drags him towards a quiet wing of the palace.

And he thinks he very much likes where this is going, especially when she pulls him into a small room and closes the door.

But she doesn't lock it, and when he looks around the first thing he sees are the violins in glass displays.

"Are we having music lessons?" he asks in trepidation.

Evelyn laughs as she takes his hand and leads him to a large black wooden... _thing_ that dominates the center of the room.

"If you'd like," she says, sitting on the cushioned bench. "Mostly I wanted to play for you. I told you I was more inclined towards the harpsichord, yes?"

_Oh, so_ this _is a harpsichord_ , he thinks, but it's so ignorantly _peasant_ that he bites back his tongue and says, instead, "I remember," as he takes a seat next to her and watches her place her fingers on the keys.

It's beautiful, the music - soft and sweet and lovely, just like her. Not wanting to disturb her playing, he refrains from wrapping his arms around her and merely rests his head against hers. He sees her smile from the corner of his eye as she continues to run her fingers up and down the keys.

"It's beautiful," he whispers when she finishes, wrapping his arms around her.

"I wrote it for my parents' anniversary when I was younger," she says, leaning into him. "A happy song, for a happy couple."

He hums in agreement, content to let her voice wash over him. She pauses, biting her lip, before she says, "Like... us. I hope."

She blushes fiercely as she looks down at their knees pressed together, and Cullen looks at her in awe and amazement as his heart clenches in his chest and squeezes the breath out of his lungs.

"As do I," he whispers hoarsely. She glances up at him from under her lashes and smiles shyly, and then he can't help but kiss her, his lips crashing against hers and his tongue sliding into her mouth when she gasps in surprise.

It feels like ages later when they part, gasping for breath and grinning like the lovesick fools they are. He leans in to kiss her again when they hear tittering and giggling in the corridor outside. They freeze, eyes wide and faces inches from each other, but the sounds die away as the people outside move further down the hallway.

He fully intends to pick up right where they left off, but she pulls away and laughs at his sullen expression, her eyes twinkling. "Would you like me to teach you to play?" she asks, running a finger across the ivories.

"I... don't think that's a good idea," he says nervously, remembering their disastrous violin lesson.

"This is easier, I promise," she says, taking his hands and placing them on the keys.

And it is, sort of. Pressing down on the keys is certainly easier than finding the right note on strings, but there's so _many_ , and he has to press them one after another and then together and then all at once.

"No," she says gently. " _This_ note before _that_ one."

Cullen huffs, frustrated, and after a beat she too sighs and wraps her arms around his waist.

He tries just one more time, but his fingers can't get it right and his thumbs somehow keep getting in the way, and he mashes all the keys he can reach in annoyance.

Evelyn snickers, and he turns to glower at her, but then she bangs a number of the lower keys in a noisy cacophony. She smiles up at him, and he can't help but smile in response. Together they start mashing the keys, ungraceful and noisy and utterly, utterly happy.

They stop only when an annoyed Orlesian-accented voice sounds from down the hallway, "What is that _awful_ racket?"

They still, pressing their hands to each other's mouths to stifle their laughter. When the shuffling steps fade away he takes her hand and kisses her palm, then her wrist, then her soft, talented fingers before she says impatiently, "Just kiss me _properly_ , Cullen."

So he does. And when she hums happy and content against his mouth he thinks it's the sweetest music he's ever heard.

\---

The ride back to Skyhold after Adamant is a somber affair.

Cullen watches her from a few paces behind as she leads the procession in front. Her shoulders are hunched, weighted with new troubles and new knowledge, and he has no idea how to help her bear it.

Varric rides up next to him. "So the Inquisitor is kind of down, Curly," he says.

"I see that, Varric, thank you," Cullen grits out.

"Yeah? So what're you going to do about it?"

Cullen presses his lips in a tight line. He's at a loss. He doesn't even know quite exactly what happened, only knows that Evelyn's party came out of the Fade one Warden short.

Hawke rides up to Cullen's other side. "You know, my brother and I used to sing and dance for our sister when she was sad," she says. "Maybe that'll work?"

Cullen glares at her. "Music isn't exactly my area of expertise."

"It doesn't have to be some Orlesian love ballad," Hawke scoffs. "Ooh, what about tavern songs? Bethany and Merrill used to laugh so much at those."

"Yeah!" Varric pipes up. "I especially like the ones with the Chantry sisters and the--"

Hawke laughs and begins to sing: _"In fair old Kirkwall 'cross the sea,t_ _here were maidens that served in the golden chantry._ _Oh, they were silent and humble in their modest frocks,_ _'til they made pilgrims pay penance with their very large--"_

"Hawke!" Cullen interrupts her, glaring.

" _Purses!_ What! What did you think I was going to say!?"

Cullen sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "So you want me," he says, "To cheer up the Inquisitor with _bawdy tavern songs?"_

"No," Hawke rolls her eyes. "We want you to cheer up _your lover_ by _making her laugh_."

"Yes, but... with _tavern songs?"_

"What? They're funny. Like the one about the thief--"

And Varric hums a tune and begins: _"A thief came in the night when the lady was abed. S_ _tartled, she cried out, but he shushed her and said, '_ _My fair lady, quiet! Oh, don't be so fussy, o_ _r I'll steal your breath too as I eat out your--' "_

"I'm not singing that for her!"

Hawke and Varric laugh at Cullen's blush, and he grumbles under his breath as he snaps the reins and rides up to Evelyn.

"Hey," he says softly. "Alright?" Which is a stupid question, really, because she obviously _isn't_ , but then she smiles a little and looks back at Varric and Hawke.

"I heard, you know," she says.

"You did?" he asks nervously, but she only chuckles softly and sings:  _"The Shield-maiden Shara was known for her stunts, b_ _ut she was even more famous for her tight little--"_

And Cullen laughs, which is wrong, because _he's_ supposed to be the one making _her_ laugh, but when he looks at her she's smiling, and she doesn't look so sad anymore after that.

He doesn't understand why until later, when they stop to make camp as night falls. He's setting up his tent when a whisper sounds behind him: "Loud and deep and delighted. So rare and so precious." Cullen knows it's Cole talking but he doesn't understand until he says, "She likes to hear you laugh. She thinks it's the best music in the world."

When Cullen turns, the boy is gone, but the heady falling-in-love feeling is in his chest again, and _that_ doesn't disappear quite as quickly.

\--- 

A few days after they've returned to Skyhold, Evelyn seeks him out in his office at a late hour.

Cullen quickly ushers out his officers and locks the door. He didn't plan for this, but when he realizes that Evelyn really does want to be with him, really does want _him_ , he can't help himself, and they fall onto his desk in a heady tangle of lips and limbs and soft, sweet sighs.

Later up in his bed he runs his hand across the bare expanse of her. She twitches when he slides his fingers along her waist, his rough callouses catching on her soft skin, and he pulls back, startled and a little ashamed.

"Sorry, I didn't realize--"

She laughs softly and pulls his hand back, pressing it intentionally against her.

"It's alright, Cullen. I don't mind."

"But they're rough," he protests, his cheeks reddening.

"They're yours," she whispers softly. "I like them just as they are." She smiles.

Cullen groans, rolling them over to pin her beneath him. He kisses her and shudders at the feel of her against him, warm and willing.

He trails kisses along her jaw and down her neck while his hands wander across her body and settle on her breasts. She whimpers when he squeezes and kneads them in his palms, and he smiles against her neck.

"Hm," he hums. "I think _this_ is an instrument I can play."

_"Cullen--"_ she gasps, and then he pinches her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and she moans, loud and wanton.

"Huh, I think I need more practice, don't you?"

She whimpers and sighs beneath him as his rough hands continue to work her. She makes a noise of protest when his hands move to her waist, but it quickly changes to a pleased moan when his mouth moves to where hands had been. 

He places open-mouthed kisses on her skin, licking and sucking wherever he can reach. At the same time his hands travel lower, lower. He worries still that his hands are too rough, that his calloused touch is hurting her, however mildly, but it quickly becomes apparent that she enjoys it, her arms and legs tightening around him as she arches into his touch.

He smiles as his hands trail lower still, until he presses one hand against her hip, the other brushing the inside of her thigh.

His name comes out in a breathy sigh, pleading, and he nips and licks at her breasts and leaves red marks across her chest to hide his grin. 

Slowly, teasingly, he slides one calloused finger along her slit, and is rewarded with a long, low moan.

Again, again, again, until she is shivering with want beneath him, his name interspersed with moans and sighs that fall from her lips like a song.

Cullen’s changed his mind. _This_ is the sweetest music he's ever heard, and he wants to keep hearing it for the rest of his life.

Her cunt and thighs are wet with want now, and he gathers up her slickness with one finger before he presses it slowly into her.

She writhes beneath him, her hips arching into his touch, a litany of pleases falling from her mouth. He slides his finger slowly in and out, his thumb searching until he finds her clit. He rubs gentle circles on her sensitive nub, savoring the way she sighs his name, before he presses down hard.

She screams in pleasure, and he does it again and again until she's a shivering mess beneath him. He slides in another finger and bites back a groan as he feels her walls squeeze tightly around them. She's close, he can feel it in the way she clenches around his fingers and in the way her arms and legs tighten around him, her fingers scrambling to find purchase on his back.

So he twists his fingers, seeking, until he brushes that spot inside her that has her crying his name and arching sharply off the bed. He smirks even as his own arousal clouds his mind, and all at once he presses down on that spot with his fingers and on her clit with his thumb, and she screams, loud with desire, as she comes undone.

He strokes her through her pleasure until she's breathless and boneless beneath him, smiling and sated.

He grins at her, smug and very satisfied with himself. "I think I'm very good at playing this instrument, don't you?"

She laughs quietly as her hand slips lower to cup his length, and she laughs again when he hisses at her touch.

"I don't know," she says coyly. "Playing an instrument requires constant practice." She brushes her thumb against the crown of his cock, smirking. 

Growling, he grabs her wandering hands and pins them above her head. She's surprised and breathless, but her eyes heat up in anticipation when he leans down to whisper in her ear. "Oh, I think I can manage that."

He does.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Dorian and a Human Inquisitor bond together by bitching about their upbringing (and by teasing Cullen about his, because he's a peasant but he's an /adorable/ peasant so it's all good).


End file.
